


Poor Communication

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles Vorkosigan has a disagreement with the Faceless Old Woman Who Lives in Your House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poor Communication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sablin27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablin27/gifts).



> This ficlet was written for [sablin27](http://sablin27.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: _Miles Vorkosigan & The Faceless Old Woman Who Lives in Your House - "He would have told her if she'd asked."_

Miles arrived home from his first trip outside Barrayar Vale to find his bedroom in shambles: bed slashed open to spill padding and springs, furniture overturned and beaten with a hammer, mirror smashed and the glass carefully embedded points-up in the carpet, etc. A single sheet of paper lay in the center of the chaos, edges incongruously aligned in perfect parallels to the walls, with a note in large black letters that read, "DON'T LEAVE THE TOWN WITHOUT GIVING NOTICE -- WHAT IF YOUR GRANDFATHER HAD NEEDED YOU?"

"First of all, he's dead," Miles said to the apparently empty room, "and while I know that doesn't mean much in an existential sense, it does matter in terms of my legal priorities; second, it's counterproductive to alienate me when I do have the option of renouncing my dual citizenship and moving permanently to Beta Flats; third, if you were so worried you might have spent more time here instead of running for Mayor; and last, I would have told you if you'd bothered to ask."

He heard an indignant "Hmph!" from his right, but a moment later there was a click distinctly reminiscent of a pair of antique scissors being set down on the genuine human leg-bone windowsill his grandfather had built from his own hunting trophies.

Sighing, Miles went to fetch an armsman and a portable black hole generator. There was no point in asking the Faceless Old Woman to clean up after herself.


End file.
